Not Come Back
by smileitserica
Summary: "I want you to go...and be happy and not come back." Characters/Pairings: Mainly Alex, Izzie, Meredith, Christina, Alex/Izzie. Character death and suicide. One Shot.


**Not Come Back**

**Characters/Pairing:** Alex, Alex/Izzie, Meredith, Christina

**Summary:** "I want you to go...and be happy and not come back."

**A/N:** PLEASE READ! I want to warn any readers before they start Not Come Back. This is a dark one, it involves character death/suicide. If you don't want to read with that topic I completely understand.  
I got this idea in my math class, productive right? haha (the first idea didn't end up as dark but my mind twisted it). The last bit of interaction between Alex and Izzie broke my heart like I imagine it did Izzie's. I hope you enjoy it and feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

* * *

_"I want you to go…and be happy and not come back."_

His fingers traced circles over the cold flesh. He took in a shaky breath as his hands began to tremble. He dropped his hands into his lap clasping them tightly together. The quivering traveled up his arms engulfing his body in painful tremors. He shut his eyes, squeezing them together. Salty water fell from the corners. He feverishly tried to wipe away the moisture. He took in another breath grabbing for the cold hand of his wife, the cold hand of his lifeless wife. His finger brushed against the gash on her wrist. He dropped the limb quickly his stomach lurching forward. He turned his head quickly spilling out the contents of his lunch onto the hospital floor. It splashed across the tile, the smell of regurgitated food assaulting his nostrils. He turned back to the bed. He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. He grabbed her hand again ignoring the cut.

"Do you hate me?" His voice cracked as he looked up at his motionless wife. His puffy red eyes searched the pale sunken face of his wife for a response. He knew better. "You must really hate me." He shot up, dropping her hand. It fell with a thud against the hospital bed. He slowly paced the dim room overlooking the waste he walked through. The blank monitors judged him. The dark screens staring at him whispering it was his fault in the silence. He moved back to the chair grabbing her hand once again. "Why" He sighed the tears prickling the back of his throat. He shook his head closing his eyes. He fell into her lap stretching out wrapping his arms around the cold corpse of his wife. He hugged her tightly trying to force his warmth into her body. "Wake up." He whispered into the blanket. He heard the door click open. He buried his face into the blanket hiding his tears from the intruder. The intruder's heels obnoxiously clinked across the tile. He mentally begged the intruder to leave. He heard a murmuring of voices talking about cleaning up the mess. He didn't know what they were talking about, his lunch across the floor or himself. He felt a hand rub across his back. He jumped at the contact.

"They need to move the body." The body. He jumped out of the chair facing the intruder. Christina stared back at him, fear colored her pale face. The anger in his face reflected off her dark eyes.

"It's Izzie." He snapped. Christina jumped back, crossing her arms over her chest for protection. "They're not moving Izzie." He turned back to his wife. "Not yet." Christina nodded moving out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible. He sat on the bed, his hand running up and down the blanket. He picked up her arm moving under it. He laid next to her curling against her body. "Wake up," He whispered pressing a kiss to her cold cheek, "please."

* * *

Meredith's red and puffy face was hidden beneath the dark sunglasses that sat perched upon her nose for the most part of the day. The sun was setting and her glasses sat still on her face, hiding her emotions. Alex sat on her old bed, pulling on his black tie he looked up at his friend.

"I told her to stay." She whispered. Alex looked down at his black shoes, the ones he wore on his wedding day.

"I told her to leave." He forced a smirk pulling off one shiny shoe. Meredith fell against the doorway, sobbing hysterically. He stared at the shoe, his own hazel eyes bubbling over with tears. He slipped the shoe back on grabbing his black jacket he stood up. "I have to go." He whispered stepping over the still crying Meredith. He heard her yell something about leaving as he pushed the door open into the dying day.

* * *

He stumbled into the empty store the brown paper bag rising to his lips again. He smiled at the clerk behind the counter.

"Can I help you?" The old man looked at the brown wet bag then at the young man before him. He reached for something behind the counter Alex couldn't see.

"I need one." He slurred.

"Do you ha-"Alex slammed the license on the counter. The old man raised an eyebrow."Well take your pick." Alex closed his eyes, Izzie's pale face in the casket flashed against his eyelids. His eyes shot open, he pointed to one. "Nice choice" The man chuckled pulling it out. Alex dropped a fist full of cash on the counter.

"Keep it." He mumbled grabbing the bag from the man. He turned away as the man excitedly counted the crumbled hundred dollar bills.

* * *

He fell into the house with a thump. He mumbled an 'I'm fine' as Meredith walked out of the kitchen a dish towel in her hand.

"I'm baking," She forced a smile as Alex walked past her up the stairs, "for Izzie." He nodded clutching the two bags to his chest. She watched him walked up the stairs, her eyes filling up with tears once again. Alex kicked open Izzie's old bedroom door. He threw the bags onto the bed. The scotch from the one brown bag fell out spilling across the pale pink comforter. He sighed. The shiny metal from the other brown bag caught his eye. He gulped walking closer to the bed. He touched the damp spot where the liquor had spilled then his fingers brushed against the cold metal of the other object. He sat on the bed looking across to the closet.

Meredith continued to stir the brownie batter, fat tears rolling down her cheeks falling into the yellow ceramic bowl. She sat the bowl down looking at the digital clock on the stove. She jumped at the sound of a door slamming and looked up at the ceiling. She picked the bowl up, dumped the batter in the trash, and placed the bowl in the sink. She took a deep breath and grabbed her purse. She walked slowly out of the house they had called home, not coming back.

**end.**


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